


asphyxia

by quills_of_the_wicked



Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Deltarune Spoilers, Don't say I didn't warn you, Gen, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, POV Second Person, Post-Canon, Undertale Spoilers, also a teensy bit of messing with canon timeline but it's like. five seconds for dramatic effect, and uhh. choking/asphyxiation trigger warning, as the title implies, listen it's been 24 hours so I can post this without judgement, listen this is just spoilers all over, or at least what canon we have thus far, which I feel is appropriate here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 05:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16486532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quills_of_the_wicked/pseuds/quills_of_the_wicked
Summary: Strange days beget stranger nights, and scary dreams beget scarier reality.





	asphyxia

When you crawl into bed, you melt into the mattress immediately, legs and feet still aching with the weight of walking all that way, arms wobbly from the heft of the sword. Your mind is still whirling and racing with visions of the day. Mrs. Alphys told you about mass hallucinations once, on one of her tangents originally relevant to your lessons. She’d ended up rambling about a dream everyone she knew had had once. Something about a strange, smiling creature loping through a sea of dust, something everyone remembered with the hazy sort of fear that comes with a distant memory. Was that all today was? A dream that you and Suzie had shared, with that weird wizard-prince who looked like your brother? For a moment, your heart constricts. Asriel can’t be home soon enough; no matter what your mom does, the house was built for more than just two.

 

But it’s okay, you resolve, curling sideways into the covers. Just sleep, and you can have some pie and think it over. Just sleep, thinking of the prince's gentle lullaby. Just sleep, and--

 

You blink, and the world instantly changes, milky orange twilight vanishing into a void full of stars. It's like floating in space, or maybe in blueberry jam, and you push forward until a speck of white is within reach. When you close a fist around it and pull, it crumbles into nothing, smearing white into your palm. It makes your hand look alien, chalky-pale and bloodless. Something flickers for a moment--a great invisible wall, vibrating powerfully, and your body shoulders through it without your input.

 

It's like slipping into someone else's world, and two voices whisper in your ears, like they're sharing residence in your head. When you look up, it’s a beautiful, tree-lined sunset, and your eyes blur with someone else’s tears as you walk.

 

“It's not much father, okay?” one voice bleats. Soft and shaky, choking on a sob, sucking in a ragged breath. “Your home, your flowers, they're just up ahead. R-right? Just a little more. I've got you, okay?”

 

The other presence is silent, contemplative, and the first drags your body forward, step by heavy step, half-dead on two feet. You glance down, and if you were in control you would recoil. Goatlike paws stained with blood tromp the grass, staggering and slow, until you practically faceplant into a field of beautiful golden flowers. _Just like Mother’s garden_ , someone thinks, and you can’t tell who.

 

“Here we are, Chara. The flowers.” Exhausted, you collapse together, but the voice smiles. “We made it, now let's…. let's just rest. I'm so tired….”

 

“ **Not yet,** ” the other presence speaks up. It's an order, one that comes as easily as breathing, and both you and the first voice recoil as one. “ **I have one last task.** ” Your body moves again, dragged upright by Chara's will even as exhaustion drags you down. Every movement feels wrong, almost forced, and when you stand you lean slightly to one side like a broken doll.

 

“What--what is it? Just be quick, okay?” The unnamed voice is trembling; if it had eyes you suspected it would be bawling like a child in trouble. “And then we can do our big plan and save everyone, and we'll all be happy. Right?”

 

“ **...Yes. Happy.** ” The word sounds foreign on Chara's tongue, and in one too-quick, too-sharp movement, they've produced a knife from an unknown place. It's a simple blade, made for carving wood and other household chores, and they run one finger over the flat. “ **But first, I must right the wrongs in my past.** ”

 

The voice catches on faster than you do. “H-hey! This wasn't part of the plan! You can't...we can't…” It trembles, childish, trying to curl up into a ball as Chara resists. “I want to go home.”

 

“ **Your plan requires souls. They have them.** ”

 

“Chara, you're scaring me!” Chara ignores the other voice and staggers forward, over the rise of a hill. Houses slowly slide into view, and then people, clustering and advancing as they shoo their kids back indoors. The humans surround you, and Chara drags a smile across your face, so wide that it feels like your jaw will snap. “Chara! Please!” the voice shouts as the crowd murmurs amongst themselves. Chara ignores them all, slowly raising the knife until it points. They don’t have to speak for anyone to know their intent.

 

When they lunge forward, their fingers lock straight and the knife drops from their hands. Chara and the voice shout at you, relentless, fighting for control of your body. Chara strains for the knife, but in the moment it takes for them to regain control, someone has you by the throat, shouting “monster” and “demon” and squeezing until the world goes dark and--

 

The speckled void rushes up around you, and the jelly-stiffness of the air has been replaced by a roaring gale. Its chill leaks into your skin, into your bones, and white flecks of dust catch and drag across everything. There are still hands around your throat, pale and thin, wearing a sweater to match yours and leading up to a blushing face. Chara grins, eyes dark and gleaming, and the storm of white swallows you both in noise and void.

 

“ **Long time, no see, my friend,** ” they sneer, mouth wrapped around their too-wide smile. You try to object; your mouth produces no sound and your limbs flail without your input. “ **Frisk, was that your name?** ” The name pricks at you, uncomfortably, and your vision starts to fade and blur with tears and hypoxia. “ **Thank you** ** _again_** **for your help last time. I do like your body, you know. It's very comfortable. I think I'll keep it.** ”

 

Your eyes jolt open, leaving you staring at the underside of your covers. You gasp for air, one two three breaths, and then your chest seizes with wrongness. Something awful coils at your stomach as you writhe, trying to dig out, out, out, needing light. The ponderous presence in your chest is stronger, though, and it creeps down, down into each joint and muscle, until it throws your body out of bed like a toy in a bully’s grip.

 

Every vein feels like it's filled with ice water, and Chara uses your mouth to smile. “ **Such a shame there isn't enough room for two in here.** ” Reality flickers for a split-second, as if someone reached in and moved something during a pause. There's a knife in your hand, the left hand, the wrong hand, and you open your mouth to scream for your mother just as it plunges in.

 

A flash of white, of pain, of _tearing_ , and this time you do scream.

 

Your body hurls you away, and a door slams.

 

Then, nothing.

 

***

 

Chara wobbles as they settle into their new body, focusing their determination into fixing the unsightly wound in their chest. After a few moments, it heals seamlessly, as if it were never there. The hall is nearly identical to their old home, the same clutter everywhere, right down to the mirror. They peer into it. Their visceral pink smile peers back, whispering, “ **It's me.** ” For a moment, they giggle to themself, and then wander downstairs, towards the smell of butterscotch-cinnamon pie.

 


End file.
